Poem

Ah! That ship!The one that sank on one of those summer days in a rather complacent sea.

Seemingly, no one’s fault − preventive maintenance by the book, strictly adhered to (from time to time).Only the last incremental time interval (not to mention a few intoxicated crew members and other alleged witnesses off/on board the ship) saw her still floating, faltering for a while (as if she was searching for her best shot under the circumstances),then tipping over to finally launch a spectacular sinking (not before conceding Archimedes wasn’t such a half-wit after all) −and disclosing by the bluntness of her dive,that she had no recollection of her graceful launchat Bremen Dockyards some 31 years ago.

Imagine all the passengers she had ever carried gathered, dead or alive,to pay one long-forgotten homage,walking now up and down her gangway.Picture the ports she frequented.Look back (keep your neck intact!), at the host of waving white-gloved hands and hats oscillating high above the pierwhenever she sailed off or reached a destination.Think of the accumulative horse power harnessed.Smile congenially at all those who wore their souls out to make her go.

Almost forgotten −what about the managers of the shipping companies, who at one time or another owned her,cold bloodedly bought and sold, placed orders, cancelled what was agreed, gave hard, then harder bargains for no apparent reason (it’s time for the whimsical to be redefined), sued and subjected to law suitsrecruited and laid off (their sweat couldn’t be found even among her remains)?Has that pageant, that procession, gone in one go?

We, who have been walked through that ship’s logbook,don’t fuss about her demise. Others, hitting the jackpot,got something tangible to hang on to −